


Among Women

by placentalmammal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: Isabela's arrival in Skyhold is nothing short of unexpected. The woman herself, even more so.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikkeneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/gifts).



> A thank you gift for Mikkeneko ([AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko)|[Tumblr](http://mikkeneko.tumblr.com/)) featuring their Adaar, Dian! Sorry for the long wait, and thank you for your patience!

The Admiral blew into Skyhold like a hurricane. Isabela--draped in long strands of pearls and wearing an ostentatious, multi-plumed hat--established a place for herself in the Herald's Rest. She ruled over her tiny fiefdom like a queen, attended at all times by a motley court of off-duty guardsmen and visiting dignitaries.

Ever-cautious, Dian hung back. She had heard stories about Isabela: the admiral of a stolen fleet, the Pirate Queen of the Eastern Seas. The Rivaini had been a legend, even before Varric immortalized her in _The Tale of the Champion_. There were so many stories about her that was impossible to know which were true, which were embellished, and which were outright fabrications.

(It occurred to Dian that she inspired a similar reaction. The legend of the Inquisitor had long-since outgrown the reality. A disquieting thought, one she preferred not to dwell on. She had to believe that Andraste had chosen her for a purpose. Ever onwards, ever upwards.)

The sun had set, and the tavern was packed. The crowd was concentrated in Isabela's corner of the bar, chevaliers and mercenaries and stable hands. Even a few Chantry sisters, ineffectually disguised as laity. The crowd was such that Dian--large as she was, _shiny_ as she was--could scarcely pass through. Dressed casually with long dark hair tucked up underneath a red bandana, Dian could have been _any_ Tal-Vashoth mercenary. No one looked twice at her, except to take notice of her height and her horns.

( _Just like the old days_ , she thought bitterly. _Except I'm alone, and my kith is scattered to the winds._ )

She had planned to spend the evening quietly. And she would have, if the Admiral hadn't taken notice of the round-shouldered Vashoth skulking at the end of the bar.

"Hey!" she called, her voice rising above the din of the tavern. "You going to buy me a drink, Lady Inquisitor, or are you going to sit there staring all night?"

Heads turned. A few people exclaimed, nudging their neighbors and pointing.

Dian swallowed, pitched her voice to carry. "I didn't mean anything by it," she said. "Begging your pardon, madam."

Isabela laughed, beckoning Dian over with a crooked finger. "My mother was a madam, I'm just Isabela. _Admiral,_ if you prefer." Still smiling, she waved her lackeys away to make room for Dian to sit beside her. "Make room for us, loves, the grown-ups need to talk.” To Dian, she said, “Come on, then! Take a seat, have a drink!”

Dian went, propelled along by the crowd's whispers. _To think,_ they said, parting to let her pass. _The Inquisitor sitting down with a_ pirate, _of all people! Has she gone mad?_

Setting her jaw, Dian put their whispers out of her mind and took the vacated seat beside Isabela. Up close, the other woman shone like a lyrium vein. Her hammered gold jewelry caught the candlelight and threw brilliant, winking lights across the room. Isabela burned like a signal flare, bursting with good cheer and yellow light.

“Welcome to Skyhold,” said Dian, stumbling slightly over her words. “I trust you’ve found everything to your liking?”

Isabela raised a brow, laughter on her lips. “So formal!” she teased. “It’s been lovely, thank you. Too cold to go pantsless, but that’s what you get for trekking up a mountain, I suppose.”

Dian laughed, drawing surprised glances from the crowd. She was the Inquisitor, high and solitary and most stern. Few had heard her laugh, and even fewer had _made_ her laugh. It did not fit neatly within their image of her as a mythic figure, more goddess than woman.

“I suppose so,” said Dian, her rolling Antivan accent coming in a little thicker. “It was a shock to me, to be certain. The Ferelden fixation with wool and furs is much more understandable, now.” She waved lazily at the barkeep, gesturing to him to refill Isabela’s cup, and then bent her head to hear the other woman’s response.

“‘Fixation’ is a strong word,” Isabela said, her eyes alight with merriment. “I think it’s more about which fabrics do the best job hiding dog hair.”

Dian’s hand flew up to her mouth to hide her smile. “They’re good people,” she said. “Loyal to our cause.”

“Naturally,” said Isabela, leaning back in her seat. “But I didn’t come to hear you talk about _the cause_ , I want to know more about the woman behind all the stories.” She flashed a wicked grin, tongue piercing glinting in the light. “Varric said you sleep with a nightlight.”

“He did _not_!” Dian spluttered, heat rising in her cheeks. “I told him that in _confidence!_ ”

Isabela laughed. “Lesson number one: there are no secrets in Varric’s world. Everything that doesn’t end up in his novels ends up in his letters.”

Dian shook her head. “Oh, I’ll be speaking to him about _that_ ,” she said fiercely. “If I find out he’s been writing a book about me….”

“Relax!” Isabela’s smile broadened. “He has only good things to say about you, sweet. And he’d never say a word against the Inquisition, it means too much to him.” She shook her head. “You’ve made a believer out of him. I don’t know how you managed it, but you’ve got him on board with your god-bothering.”

“What about you?” said Dian. “Are you ‘on-board’ with the Inquisition?”

For the first time that night, Isabela’s grin faltered. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice heavy with unexpected honesty. “I’m not an idealist, but this is...This is something else. Something bigger than us.” She shrugged, earrings swaying with the movement of her head and shoulders. “Who can say for certain?”

“‘The Maker rewards His faithful,’” said Dian, quoting from scripture. “In this life or the next.”

Isabela laughed softly. “There you go again, sounding off about the cause.” She reached over and patted Dian’s hand. “I’m not convinced,” she said. “Not yet, anyway. But I knew I couldn’t make a decision without meeting you and seeing _this._ ” She gestured vaguely, indicating all of Skyhold with a sweep of her bangled arm. “It’s incredible, what you’ve done. Downright miraculous”

“Miracles are our stock and trade,” said Dian seriously.

The other woman laughed again. “Was that a joke?” she said, delighted.

Dian nodded, full lips quirking up in a grin. “It was.”

“Varric didn’t say you were _funny_ ,” said Isabela. “Or maybe he did, but I missed it underneath all the ‘blessed-among-women’ tripe.” She drained her cup, set it down with a resounding clatter. “You’re not what I expected,” she admitted “I hope you keep surprising me.”

“You as well,” said Dian, warmth building behind her breastbone. She smiled again, grateful for the rare chance to speak openly and unguardedly with someone outside her inner circle. Her image and reputation were heavy things, not easily set aside, but Isabela had managed to see underneath the mask. This was friendship, or the beginnings of one.


End file.
